Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Eight: Into the Frying Pan

“Well,” began Dumbledore cheerfully, clapping his hands together once. “I think I’ll leave you two gentlemen for now. I’m sure you two need to have plenty of time getting used to each other.” 

Oh, yeah… Lots of time… 

Do we have years? 

Will Voldie wait that long? 

As if. 

Harry lifted his head slightly to watch the old wizard leave the kitchen. There was the sound of the fire flaring up, before silence fell upon the quarters of Professor Snape. Harry looked down at his plate, wondering if he should eat more. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say, but he could certainly feel Snape’s eyes staring at him. He wanted to avoid it, but he knew the man was going to drill him on stuff. 

“So… what now?” asked Harry, hoping to send the topic away from himself. 

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He leaned against the table, his elbows rested on the surface as his long fingers interlocked. Harry briefly noticed the light stains that marred the skin there – must be from potion making. Harry’s mind wandered to thinking about how what it would be like to always be at a cauldron and experimenting with new things. The man must truly love his work if he could get past the long hours and the various odors that came with the work. 

“I am still trying to figure you out.” 

“S–sir?” stammered Harry, completely caught off guard; blinking in surprise. Snape’s eyes narrowed even further as they burrowed deeply into him, making Harry want to squirm in his seat. He always felt as if those eyes could read everything about him, as if they could strip away his barriers with simple ease. 

But then again, this man never really understood him. Snape had always regarded him with such hate and hostility that there was no way he could read what was inside Harry’s heart. 

But what if… 

A cruel voice lifted inside Harry’s mind. 

But what if he does know the truth and still treats you this way? What if he sees the real you and hates you anyway? Maybe you really do deserve to be hated. 

Generally, Harry always did his best to push such negative thoughts away. He had spent years under the Dursleys’ cruelty that he had thought it was normal. He had thought that he had somehow deserved their hatred. After all, they loved Dudley. So, why didn’t they love Harry? As a child, he had always assumed there was just something wrong with him. 

And he’d been right. 

They had hated him because of his magic. They were either deathly afraid or insanely jealous of him for having such power. Either way, Harry hadn’t made the connection until his first year at school. Ron had a family with many children and they were loved – all equally, too. They had magic and they were loved. So, why didn’t the Dursleys, who were family, love Harry? 

But when Harry found friends and found that most of his teachers liked him, he discovered that something was wrong with the Dursleys and not himself. It was only when he was around Snape that he questioned this revelation. 

“Since when have you found potions interesting?” asked Snape, his dark eyes filled with scrutiny; those orbs shadowing as they narrowed further. 

Harry looked directly into those eyes. He pushed the cruel voice back down. He didn’t have to listen to it. He didn’t have to believe that there was something wrong with him. He was a decent person. He tried his best. He wasn’t perfect, but he was just a teenager. Adults weren’t exactly perfect, so they couldn’t expect perfection from kids, now could they? 

Harry wasn’t about to let Snape make him feel inferior. He’d had enough of that back at the Dursleys. Hogwarts was his sanctuary and being stuck to Snape wasn’t going to ruin that whatsoever. 

Harry took a deep breath and glared at the man. 

“Since first year,” said Harry, his stomach turning uncomfortably as he continued onward. “But, of course, you wouldn’t know that since you decided to pick on one of your new students who was only eleven years old and hadn’t even known he’d been a wizard until his eleventh birthday.” 

Those dark eyes hardened. 

“Do not lie to me, Potter,” spat Snape, the anger rising inside his expression. “You were the one who hadn’t been paying attention to your teacher. If you had been paying attention, then maybe I would not have chosen you to answer my questions.” 

The heat rose inside Harry’s chest. Snape was being his usual, cruel self. It wasn’t fair! The look inside the man’s eyes totally said that he wouldn’t have cared either way. Harry bolted to his feet, the chair scraping behind himself as he glared down at the man. 

“I was taking notes!” cried Harry hotly. “You didn’t bother to notice or see that maybe—” 

Snape stood up, his nostrils flaring furiously. This had a much bigger affect on the conversation then when Harry had stood up. The man was a tall one, standing a good foot higher than Harry. This man was a different kind of intimidating than Harry’s uncle. He emanated power and strength. This man was sure of himself and showed forth confidence. He was also the epitome of pure fright. 

Uncle Vernon was different. His power lied in one fact alone. He’d been in Harry’s life for fourteen years now. That man knew exactly what to say to keep Harry’s mouth clamped shut. Uncle Vernon could do anything to him and Harry would still keep quiet. It would only make things worse. They both knew that Harry couldn’t go anywhere else; thus, fighting was useless and only resulted in more pain. 

But that didn’t meant he had to take it here. 

“I suggest you take on a more respectful tone, Potter,” growled Snape. “I can make life miserable for you.” 

“Like you haven’t already done so?” snapped Harry, throwing all caution to the wind now. He hated this. He hated the way those eyes were looking at him. First the Dursleys, now Snape? He didn’t have to take this. He didn’t deserve this! “Excuse me,” continued Harry, his tone perfectly contempt and insolent, “but I don’t deserve to be treated like dung! I haven’t done anything to you. I’ve never done anything to deserve your hatred!” 

Snape shook his head derisively.

“The sheer amount of arrogance that you display is simply mindboggling, Potter,” said Snape, sneering at him. “Not even your father was this arrogant. You think everything is about you, don’t you? I suppose I can only blame your doting family. They spoiled you, pampered you, indulged you with no thought for any type of boundaries or discipline—” 

Well, that shattered Harry’s edge. That was Dudley – Dudley was the spoiled, pampered, indulged princely brat who was a jerk and a prat to every living human being, including his own parents. Harry wasn’t about to put into the same category as him

“Yeah, because you’re the world’s leading expect on Harry Potter, aren’t you,” snapped Harry furiously, not even noticing that he had interrupted Snape. “You know everything there is to know about me. You’ve lived with me for my entire life, since that’s the only way one gets to know someone.” 

Then, Harry paused for dramatic effect, completely ignoring Snape’s enraged glare. 

“Well, wait a minute. You’ve never lived with me. So, how the heck did you find out about me?” snarled Harry, hatefully flinging his words toward the man. “How would you know anything about me? How would you know how my family treats me, huh?! Well, you don’t! You know nothing! You just make up stuff about what you think I am. You’re a bigger idiot than I thought you were!” 

Snape instantly moved around the small table and grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt, nearly lifting him off his feet as he was dragged close to the man’s face. Those nostrils flared again as the man’s eyes widened with pure fury. 

“Listen very carefully, Potter,” hissed Snape in a low voice. “I won’t have disrespect in my own quarters.” 

Harry had to bite his tongue to avoid saying, ‘Yeah? Well, where do you usually go?’ That probably would’ve been a bit too suicidal for the moment. 

“You will address me as Professor or sir at all times – with respect.” 

Harry only glared at the man. His chest was bursting with fierce anger. What respect? Just where, how, when did this man deserve his respect, when it was more than obvious that Snape didn’t have the same inclination towards him. Harry’s hands reached up and grabbed the wrist that was clutching the front of his shirt. 

“Let go of me,” growled Harry, digging his fingers around the thin, yet powerful wrist. 

“You will have nothing but the utmost respect for me,” continued Snape, ignoring him. “If you don’t, I suggest you find it, for your sake.” 

Let go of me!” cried Harry, struggling against the man’s grip with more vigor. His heart was beginning to palpitate inside his chest. He didn’t like being this close to a man that could harm him. It reminded him far too much of his uncle. The anger was still licking his insides, but he still felt so powerless. Snape regarded him with disgust as he finally released Harry. There was a moment as Harry breathed in deep; slow fixing the front of his t-shirt. He glanced at Snape briefly, before breaking the gaze to look down at the floor. 

There was a long moment of silence between the two them, before Snape spoke once again; his words strong, yet barely above a whisper. 

“You have a vague understanding of what corporal punishment is, do you not, Mr. Potter?” 

Ice slid down Harry’s back, completely dousing the fire that had flared inside his soul. He swallowed nervously, looking up at Snape with mild horror. He certainly had a more than ‘vague’ understanding of the concept, yeah. Dear Uncle Vernon was well versed in that. Although, most upstanding citizens would prefer to term it as physical abuse

“Uh…” 

“You have no idea what punishments my Slytherins receive behind closed doors. You are now in Slytherin territory. I suggest you watch yourself, since you will be receiving the same treatment they do.” 

“But–but I’m not in Slytherin,” cried Harry, now thoroughly anxious. At least back at the tower, he wasn’t beaten ever – even though in his first year, he had thought Professor McGonagall was going to cane him when she went to get Oliver Wood. That had been a nerve wracking thirty seconds for eleven year old Harry – and now it seemed that Snape could really do anything to him. 

Oh, gosh, Snape really could beat him. 

“Nonetheless, you are living in the dungeons,” said Severus, trying to keep his anger down – a struggling feat in the very least where Potter was concerned. “Not to mention, you are now my ward – whether I like it or not. I do not have the patience to cater to your every Gryffindor whim, nor is it within my moral core to allow you to make poor choices without having the proper consequences. You will learn, Potter. One way or another.” 

Severus watched the boy for a moment as this information sunk in – almost snorting in amusement as the horror and fear flooded Potter’s face. 

Ha! Let the little brat worry. Maybe it’ll keep him in line for awhile. Of course, Severus was only alluding to the possibility to the boy, but Potter didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that there was no way on Mother Nature’s good earth that he’d ever lift a hand against a child. While he wasn’t exactly against it, when done properly and with a good guardian – the debate about that subject was a whole other jar of flubberworms – he could never do it himself, not after his own childhood. 

His own father had taken that notion out all too much. 

Oh, but watching the nervous, fearful look on the boy’s face and that way he was squirming at the thought… Well, that was amusing. Mm, perhaps the boy wasn’t as spoiled as Severus thought – it was quite obvious the boy had experience with the concept. Well, good. The Golden Boy wasn’t so pampered at home as he had thought. The boy needed some boundaries and consequences for his actions. However, that submissiveness wouldn’t last long once Potter realized that Severus was only pulling a ‘Slytherin’ over him. But Severus was going to enjoy the peace while it did. 

He snorted to himself. As if anything with Potter included peace

“Now, go sit down on the sofa. You have homework, do you not?” 

Potter nodded numbly, obeying the command. Severus followed him into the living area. He summoned the boy’s books from his bedroom with the flick of his hand; easily doing the spell both wandlessly and wordlessly. A number of books flew from the hallway and slammed into the sofa with a harsh snap, making the boy flinch beside them. He glanced up at Severus, his eyes downcast with fear. Severus crushed any feelings of pity and shoved them into the back of his mind. 

He was not going to pity this brat. 

“What an excellent opportunity for you to devote yourself to your studies – since you have such poor grades as it is.” 

Snape smirked condescendingly as he walked out of the room. He must have not gone far, since there was no burning sensation like before when one of them pushed the distance. Harry sighed, pulling his legs up from the floor and drawing his knees into his chest. He slowly wrapped his arms around his legs, completely ignoring his books. He closed his eyes, wishing for once he was in a place that actually welcomed him with open arms. 

Once again, he was going to have to be careful not to set Snape over the edge. The man hated him just as much as Uncle Vernon did. There was no telling what the man would do to him – especially after that speech of treating him like he did his Slytherins. 

A little voice in the back of his head tried to reason with him – weren’t the Slytherins favored in Snape’s eyes? If he was going to be treated just like them, then it couldn’t be too bad, now could it? But Harry couldn’t get over the years of fear that had been pounded into his skull. 

Adults couldn’t be trusted. 

It was going to be a long school year, wasn’t it? 

And then, it hit Harry – he just remembered something. He had forgotten, due to all the nonsense with Umbridge, and then Snape and the stupid spell. How could he have forgotten? It was the only thing he looked forward to during school now. 

But this whole ‘stuck to Snape’ thing was going to be a huge problem. 

“Uh… Professor?” 

What?!” snapped Snape, sounding thoroughly exasperated and at the end of his sanity. Harry winced. Snape was definitely not going to like this. “Can’t you sit there in silence for more than two minutes?” 

“I just remembered something.” 

“Congratulations, Potter, for using your brain,” drawled Snape, very rudely from the other room. “Were you looking for a prize?” 

Don’t backtalk. Don’t backtalk, Harry’s mind chanted at him as he tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. The man can hit you now; he said so himself. Just be polite, keep your head down – you’ll make it through this. 

“Not exactly. But you need to know something.” 

“Spit it out already, Potter!” 

“I have Quidditch practice this afternoon.” 

There was the sound of a chair toppling to the ground – no doubt from a body bolting to its feet. A moment later, Snape had swooped into the room, his black robes billowing with a force of seemingly unnatural power. There was shock and horror across the man’s hardened features. 

What?!” 


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